Above: A proposal to connect downtown Portland's two linear parks would increase
green space--at the expense of a dense urban fabric, historic terra-cotta
buildings, and affordable housing.
Fabled planners' paradise Portland, Oregon, is a perennial hit on the nation's
most-livable lists. The city wears its renowned urban-growth boundary like
a tiara--and Douglas firs, the saying goes, are as common there as
lampposts. It's precisely a bid for more open space, however, that's rattled
the Rose City: in a plan for more parks, bulldozers would maul blocks of
century-old facades and stomp over buildings worthy of the National Register
to make way for a sweeping vision that critics have likened to urban renewal,
Robert Moses--style.
The starting point is Portland's airy north and south park blocks--two linear
greenways that together amount to a giant tree-filled front yard for
institutions such as the Portland Art Museum and Portland State University.
Now a group of citizens galvanized by former mayor Neil Goldschmidt has
suggested connecting the two by mowing down the densely developed blocks
that separate them and installing a tree-lined promenade bordered by shops
and cafés. Likened to Las Ramblas, Barcelona's pedestrian boulevard,
the plan looks to some like the city's ticket to ride. "It involves
the soul of Portland," says Jim Westwood, president of the Park Blocks
Foundation, a group backing the plan. "It's Portland's moon shot."
To others, it's a road to nowhere. "This would be an aesthetic nightmare,"
says journalist Steffen Silvis. "To destroy those buildings seems ludicrous.
They're wonderful walking streets. It's one of few places downtown where
the pedestrian does have the primary right of way." In other words,
it's got the very qualities that have made Portland a New Urbanist mecca.
Indeed junking the district's narrow street-scapes has raised hackles among
the city's planning protectorate. "If you could build upon the unique
character of this area instead of clearing it out, the city would be richer
for it," says Kent Duffy, president of the AIA's Portland chapter.
Richer in terra-cotta, for one thing: these blocks form the linchpin in
a proposed Terra Cotta Historic District showcasing some of the city's architectural
heritage. Losses would also include venerable local hangouts like Rich's
Cigar Store and the Virginia Cafe, as well as affordable downtown housing.
As one resident of a 60-unit low-income apartment house on a targeted block
seethed in a newspaper editorial: "Shame on you for threatening to
destroy the apartments of the weak and poor."
Is this the Haussmannization of Portland? Not so, says the 61-year-old Goldschmidt,
who is revered for 1970s revitalization feats such as Pioneer Courthouse
Square, the vibrant public plaza known as "Portland's living room."
"This isn't just about a linear connection between the north and south
park blocks," Goldschmidt says. "This is about building a new
launch platform for the next 25 years."
And some terra-cotta's gotta crumble. "If you look at the horse we've
been riding since the 1970s, it was constructed on a foundation of pretty
integrative thinking," Goldschmidt says. He ticks off a list of blocks
condemned or otherwise assembled by the city for projects--such as Pioneer
Square and the ad-jacent Nordstrom department store--that arguably made
Portland the boutique 'burg it is today. Those low-income tenants need not
worry quite yet, however. "We're not seeking to take these blocks over
and raze the buildings," Westwood explains. "One of those blocks
has a brand-new hotel on it. It'll be fifty years before anything can
be done with that block. It won't happen in my lifetime."
In 1998 Goldschmidt brokered a deal with developer Tom Moyer to buy one
of the blocks--where a 12-story parking garage was set to rise--and donate
it to the city. The Ramblas notion evolved as a pep pill for flagging
downtown retail anchors and harked back to an 1848 plan for a 26-block linear
park stretching from one end of the downtown grid to the other. (The existing
park blocks are remnants of this vision.) Then last December Goldschmidt's
crew announced that through purchases and donations it was in the process
of gaining control of half the properties in question.
Mayor Vera Katz and planning director Gil Kelley called in reinforcements:
an "advisory council of experts" boasting retail guru Robert Gibbs
and landscape architect Laurie Olin, among others. Their opinion? "We
said simply blasting the whole thing out and planting grass isn't going
to do it," recalls Frances Halsband, a New York architect who served
on the council. The experts recommended a two-block public plaza and broadened
the discussion to include an area west of the park blocks. A revised Goldschmidt
plan put a wide street down the middle in lieu of the two narrow lanes previously
proposed--a notion the experts also rejected on the grounds that it would
be a boulevard leading from nowhere to nowhere.
Still, says city commissioner Jim Francesconi, investments are needed to
attract the next generation of downtown retail and housing. "We're
going to have to get taller and denser," he says. "And we need
public spaces if we're going to do that." He points out that getting
land under public or foundation ownership--as the Park Blocks Foundation
proposes to do--will give the city more options in coming decades when rising
densities spurred by a slew of new downtown housing initiatives make open
space even more indispensable.
Goldschmidt emphasizes that the Ramblas plan was never set in stone and
that the goal is simply to bring the fate of these key blocks under public
control. But he still believes that thinking big is the solution to Portland's
problems: "When we asked our focus group why a park plan would be a
good idea, one of the people said, 'Because it's a big idea.' And everybody
nodded their heads and said, 'Yes, it's a big idea. We need one. Let's get
off our butts and do something here.'" The era for such sweeping change
may be over, however. "There are still misgivings about a lot of projects
that happened here from the 1950s onward," Silvis says, mentioning
the gutting of neighborhoods for the I-405 and I-5 freeways. "Portland
is suffering quite a bit from some of the other great schemes that were
concocted over the years."